


Next Time

by seryle



Series: Times [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seryle/pseuds/seryle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Dean anticipated him coming home at 3am, heard the key turn and expected an angry groan of self-loathing at past-Cas for making future-Cas's life a living hell via hangover. He expected to grab some Tums, an aspirin and a glass of water, and triumphantly shove them in the man's face, knowing full well how a pounding head felt. He expected footsteps down the hallway. He did not expect two pair of them.</p><p> </p><p>Inspired by the knowledge that "Cas is gonna whip it out next season."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

He didn't get up until sometime around noon. It wasn't too surprising; Dean and Sam had both turned in at midnight, but Dean woke up when he heard him stumbling in around three thirty in the morning. The stumbling part was expected, they had left him at the bar around eleven with a full glass and a girl who looked like an off duty stripper, dutifully feeding him shots. But he had never really partied before, and Sam insisted they give him one night where the Winchesters weren't crawling up his ass. So they handed him some cash for a cab and headed back to the impala, where Dean convinced himself that the pain in his gut was from a lack of sleep. Neither of them saw his face as they walked out the door. 

So Dean anticipated him coming home at 3am, heard the key turn and expected an angry groan of self-loathing at past-Cas for making future-Cas's life a living hell via hangover. He expected to grab some Tums, an aspirin and a glass of water, and triumphantly shove them in the man's face, knowing full well how a pounding head felt. He expected footsteps down the hallway. He did not expect two pair of them. 

Dean's eyes flew open as he realized what had happened. That the low moan was not one of a hangover, but one of want, clawing and desperate, that the gasp was not from stubbing a toe but from the girl sucking on his neck, that the stumbling down the hallway was not of one body trying to get to bed, but of two bodies trying to reach a flat surface. He was frozen as they approached Castiel's room, as the latch to clicked and the door closed, and he could practically see it, see the girl taking off her bra as he sucked her nipples, see her hands running up and down his back, taking off his shirt, cupping his ass, pulling down his jeans and she must be giving him one superior blow job because the noises he heard, the man gasped and moaned like a goddamned porn star. He could hear the mattress creek under their weight, hear the sheets ruffle and shift and that was it, there was no way he could sleep here with those two humping like rabbits next door. Dean grabbed his pillow and a blanket, his denial skills two for two of the day as he convinced himself that it was just the noise that bothered him. Even from the couch down the hall, he could hear them fucking into the mattress, haunting his sleep. 

So yeah, watching his superbly pleased ass waltz into the kitchen at noon wasn't too surprising. Sam had made coffee, in an effort to quell what he knew was brewing under his brother's skin, but had little to offer sympathy-wise, because if the thick-headed idiot had just taken the bait and stayed with him last night, there might be a different kind of tension underlying this scene. But no. Dean drove off into the sunset and Cas took someone home from the bar. Such is life. 

Castiel pulled a cup down and helped himself to the pot, a Cheshire grin plastered across his face; he leaned against the counter and took sips between little huffs of laughter. 

"What're you smiling about?" Dean asked grouchily. It was too early for this bullshit. Castiel turned towards him, as if just noticing he was not alone in the room. His grin grew wider, showing off too many teeth as his replied, "Blow jobs really are the best way to wake up, aren't they?" 

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not missing the way Dean's hand tightened around his mug. Dean managed to keep an air of annoyed disinterest, though, and turned back to his breakfast before sying, "Well next time keep it down, Casanova. Some of us were trying to sleep last night." 

Castiel shrugged. "What can I say?" he asked, spreading his arms apart in helplessness, "He was a screamer." 

Both Winchesters' heads snapped up, then to Castiel, then to each other. Dean looked out of surprise. Sam looked to watch his brother's reactions. Before Dean's brain had successfully put together what Castiel had said with the implications thereof, the door to Castiel's room opened, and _Jesus Christ that guy looks like a male model._ For having woken up merely moments before, he was the spitting image of a Levi ad, crumpled shirt and ruffled hair screaming sex, loose jeans tightening just a bit with each step to show off a pair of well-muscled thighs. He paused a moment to shrug on the leather motorcycle jacket, sending a wave and a smirk towards Castiel, who returned the favor before the guy turned and walked out the door. A moment after the latch clicked, Dean spoke. 

"That was a guy," Dean stated, pointing towards the door. 

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Your powers of observation astound me, Dean," he said before walking back to his bedroom. Without a word, Dean stood up, dumped out the glass of water and threw away the medication he'd laid out the night before, leaving his breakfast unfinished as he stalked out to the Impala.


End file.
